


Null and void

by Kangoo



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, This is my world canon just lives in it, Void Elf Kael'thas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: Illidan reaches into the void and the void reaches back
Relationships: Illidan Stormrage/Kael'thas Sunstrider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Null and void

**Author's Note:**

> 2018 was a good year for kaellidan and a bad one for canon-compliant anything

In a desperate attempt to strike down Sargeras, Illidan reaches into the void, and the void reaches back.

It’s not a rational decision. It’s not even, in fact, a conscious one. His blades slip between bloody fingers, clattering against the burning ground, and he’s quick to join them as his legs give out under him. Panic feels very much like a small animal clawing its way out of his chest and up his throat, needle-like claws digging into his flesh, and he chokes on the feeling of dread. Or maybe it’s the air, heavy with ashes and blood, that makes breathing a struggle.

But Illidan has never learned how to give up and has no interest in learning now, of all times. He shakes the blood off his claws, reaches for his blades again, and finds something else instead. It feels like dipping his entire hand in ice water, except it is dry; when he looks down, surprised by the chill already spreading bone-deep, he finds that half his arm from the elbow down has disappeared into a crack in the ground. It doesn’t exactly look like it is _in_ the ground, actually, but rather slightly above it, and it is darker than the night itself, outlined in a color he has never seen before that glows brighter than the sun.

Something brushes against the tip of his fingers.

The Void, it seems, feels very much like a _hand_.

Because at this point in his life (which is to say: in the very last minutes of it), Illidan is alive by instinct, foolishness and little else, he closes his hand.

For a second, Illidan believes he is shaking hands with a void lord, but void lords are not in the habit of sealing deals (let alone the unspoken kind) with a handshake. Or even in the habit of making deals with mortals, period. They seem to be solely in the business of destroying life as it exists, and this does not include physical contact of any kind.

Plus, the creature doesn’t drag him through the rift that has opened itself next to his feet, which is something he supposes a void lord would do. They sure look like they would, don’t they.

But the grip is firm and Sargeras is closing in on him and, truly, Illidan needs that hand to at least die fighting, so he makes peace with the possibility that he is dragging unspeakable horror into this plane (and right on the Titans’ doorstep) and lifts his hand through the crack in space-time continuum.

The _thing_ does not let go.

Illidan, who has fallen into quite the bad habit of making terrible decisions in equally-awful situations, gets his hand back and finds another, pitch-black one holding it.

 _This is bad_ , he thinks, just as another hand reaches through the rift, takes hold of the broken ground, and appears to try to get…. _something_ out of the rift.

Because of said bad decision-making, and also because the hand appears humanoid at least and humanoid things tend to be better than eldritch horror-shaped ones, Illidan stands up and attempts to help by pulling the hand up.

With their combined efforts, the _thing_ manages to get itself into this plane of existence, and soon reveals itself to be rather more than simply humanoid-shaped. It appears to be elven in nature, if elves were made from pure darkness and actual starlight, rather than metaphorical one.

“ _Damn_ ,” It (he? they?) says, voice echoing despite the excellent acoustic of the room, and also with a distinctively Thalassian accent, “This place is _bright_.”

It flops gracelessly on the ground, rolls on its back, and then (more hurriedly) out of the way of Sargeras’s strike. Illidan does the same, jumping the other way. The void-thing (void elf? Are those even something that exists? _Elune_ but the world has become a weird place in ten thousand years) stands on its feet, shrugging off its cape that dissolves into dark particles before touching the floor and reassembling into a long, familiar sword. “What in the void is going on here?”

Illidan flies out of the way of another hit, barreling into the thing a second before Sargeras’ other arm comes sweeping in the space they just vacated. His momentum brings them both to the other side of the large room, where he hits the wall back first and crashes on the ground with a pained groan. The void elf manages to avoid getting crushed under his bulk and glances at him as he lifts himself to his feet. His face, difficult as it is to read considering the whole apparently-made-of-the-void-itself thing, appears alarmed at the sight of his many wounds. None of the blood on him is Sargeras’ _._

 _“_ Shouldn’t you know?” Illidan asks. The void elf shrugs. “Did you just— take the first hand coming your way?”

“In my defense, there aren’t many disembodied hands in the Void, _Illidan_ ,” The void elf grouses, and his sword comes flying through the room and into his hand.

“How do you know my name?” He wasn’t aware his bad reputation had reached the Void. “Who are you? _What_ are you?”

Suddenly, the void elf stops in his track, looks down at himself, then hums quietly. “Oh. I guess I _have_ changed rather drastically since the last time you saw me, haven’t I?”

And that’s, funnily enough, when it hits him: when Sargeras falls on them both and throws him across the room a second time. Something cracks in his chest, and he realizes he knows that sword, although it is more of a shadow made solid than a sword; and he knows this voice, ghostly echoes notwithstanding; and he knows that _figure_ , despite everything.

Gasping for air (that’d be the punctured lung), Illidan manages to choke out, “ _Kael’thas?_ ”

The void elf, which might also be his long-dead friend, shrugs noncommittally.

Illidan sighs, chokes on his own breath one last time, then decides that this is enough and he’s just very tired and very eager to put an end to all this, and passes out.

(If this really is Kael’thas, then he’s already used to dealing with Illidan’s messes on his own anyway.)

**Author's Note:**

> come haunt me on [tumblr](https://youngster-monster.tumblr.com/)


End file.
